


Did We Just Become Friends?

by anaadele



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Best Friends, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 22:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18375425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaadele/pseuds/anaadele
Summary: It takes several months for Katniss to return Gale's smile but when she does Gale know they'll become friends. And it happens time after time. Gale believes in free will as much as believes in fate and somehow he knows they will choose each other...time after time. [Gale x Katniss and Hawthorne family]





	1. Surprise?

I release tension on the striker as my hand starts to cramp. My head falls back, and I breathe in as deep as my lungs will allow. Katniss and I are camping near the pond my father and I found together. Two hours and we haven't even heard a cluck that I didn't make myself. It's December and the water frozen in some places, but the sun does not want to be forgotten. The air is crisp and smells like burnt wood, I close my eyes and it almost feels like I'm here with my father instead the girl with the bow.

My eyes trail to her position, stationed in the tree across from mine and a few branches higher. Her lips press together so tightly I think they'll turn white. It's not that it's cold, we abandoned our jackets an hour ago and without wind biting at our cheeks I'm comfortable in long sleeves. I promised Katniss we'd get a good haul today, but we only have what the snares caught overnight- two rabbit and two squirrels. We've gathered greens along the way, snagging the berries near the pond before the turkeys do. That is if they ever show up.

 _Ylpppppp._ The pot call screeches under my frantic hand. I didn't just promise a good haul, I promised a wild turkey. When I look up, Katniss is looking my direction with the hardest face she can muster, angry eyebrows with a scrunched-up nose like she smells something awful. She hates the turkey call.

"Sorry." I shrug, tucking the slate stone and stick into my belt. It's not the most pleasant sound. Katniss says it reminds her of one of the boys in her class dragging his nails across the chalkboard. It can attract wild turkeys from miles away. Except apparently not today.

Today might be a good day in another life. The twelfth day of the twelfth month marked a day of observation, for the history of District 12. Annually, it meant miners were given the day off, and every citizen required to attend a viewing of the past, reminders of a rebellion that failed and the rebirth of Panem through the Hunger Games. After the ceremonies those who can pay attend a festival in the square. Merchants then retire to their homes to indulge some more.

"I'm sorry, Catnip." I can seem to meet her eye. She agreed we'd hunt for turkeys and it's not like it's my fault they aren't around. It's not like we're even friends.

"Not your fault." But she's not looking at me either. The pot call replicates the turkey's yelp with superior accuracy, and it almost always works if we've put eyes on the birds.

"Really, Gale, it's not," Katniss insists, forcing me to meet her gaze, "it usually works." A smile sprouts across my face. It is very effective. Katniss' lips twist like she has something else to say but looks away before her smile forms. She never smiles at me. In fact, it took two months before I saw her smile at all. We had come across a gathering of purple flowers, the first time I show her the trail to this pond. She was biting her lower lip, but I could still see the corners of her mouth turn upward, the wideness in her eyes as she picked the delicate stems. That smile came with a name. Primrose. The flower. And her little sister. The only words she shared with me that weren't related to the woods.

"Let's call it. We can mill around the fence where we saw the dogs yesterday," I suggest. If we're lucky, the ravish dogs will still be near the fence behind my house. We'll have to backtrack but if we catch a dog, this morning won't be a total waste.

"I kind of like it up here." I pause and stop preparing to move. "The sun hasn't felt this good in months." Katniss is staring into the sky with her eyes tightly shut.

"Well, don't burn your eyes out." I choke on a chuckle when Katniss lowers her chin in my direction.

"I won't," she snaps softly. My dad always said I was funny. It's taken all year just to make sense of humor's place in life, if at all.

"Why did the sun burp?" When Katniss rolls her eyes, it reminds me of Rory, my younger brother. He freshly nine and convinced he knows everything.

"Come on, Katniss, this one is safe to tell Prim," I try to remember Katniss is only twelve. Sometimes my jokes are too old even for her.

"Why did the sun burp?" This time I can tell she's giving it some thought, although she's blankly staring at me. I tug on my ear, anxious to deliver the punch line.

"Give up?" I ask. Her head slowly shakes once. We may not be friends yet, but in three months I haven't seen Katniss give up once. Haggling with Rooba the butcher for fair asking price on our turkeys, practicing the snare knots constantly, keeping up when we explore new regions of the woods. That's a friend I want. After a few moments, Katniss rolls her eyes again.

"Because it had too much gas!"  _Belch_. Instead of a roaring burp, a burp my six-year-old brother Vick could have made escapes my breath. This time her eyebrows spring up, and I think maybe she'll laugh. Instead she looks away and smirks.

"I'll have to tell that one to Prim."

"What did the triangle say to the circle?"

"I don't know, Gale. What?" She could get this one, if she tried.

"You're pointless!" I cock my fingers like I'm practicing my bow aim.

"Good one, Gale," she quips.

"Today is pointless," Katniss shifts her legs to one side of the branch.

"Maybe." What about tonight's dinner, I think? Doesn't that mean anything to her? "But we get the day off and there's always a little extra from the merchants fancy orders."

"It's like celebrating his death." The words cut through the trees like an arrow off Katniss' bow. Silent and deadly and almost true. The same video blasted over the projectors every year on screens big enough to mask entire storefronts. We are vital to the Capitol's indulgence, we make sure Panem has energy, and that we are nothing without the mines that the Capitol so graciously allows us to work in. Bullshit I want to say out loud. Tell off the Capitol for leaving Katniss alone. And I probably will once I'm alone.

"What if we celebrated his life?" Our fathers died in the same explosion. A months' worth of wages, a useless medal, and careless ceremony provided by the Capitol. Enough to enrage a hatred within me that still simmers.

"I, uh…" she fumbles with the thought. Funerals in the Seam aren't very common. Death plagues everyone, but funerals are for the living. And the living don't have anything to spare on the dead. I tried to sell the medal, but my mother thought we ought to bury it in place of a body. So, it's out in the backyard, underneath a bench my father made when I was four or five. When she hums, I realize I'm now retelling this memory out loud.

"It wasn't very ceremonial," I continue. "We huddled together and cried while Rory and Vick took turns remembering dad or wailing in our arms. They wore themselves out quick. We drank tea and laid in the grass till the moon howled." My mother said she wasn't sure about so many children, but my father changed her mind repeatedly.

"We're meeting each other's families tonight." If Katniss has a secret weapon, it's deflection.

"Yes, we are," I've been waiting for this all week since Katniss finally agreed. "But you could do it your own way, whatever you think it should be. It's better that way." She accepts my advice with silence.

"So, you do care about meeting my family?" throwing an acorn her direction. She swats it away with ease.

"Of course," she says flatly. Half the time I can barely hear her and the rest of the time I'm not sure if she has any emotion left in that little body.

"It took you forever to say yes..." weeks in fact and now I'm worried she'll bail. "Everyone is excited to meet you."

"They are?"

"Yeah Katniss! When Rory found out Prim was his age, he wouldn't stop talking about how much better friends they'll be than you and me…" I pause. Are we even friends? "And ma will hug you. Like a big hug. She worries about you being out here." Katniss straightens up her stance but keeps my focus.

"Prim keeps asking if Rory will like her."

"Trust me, he will." A gentle breeze lures conversation away. I wonder if I should suggest new hunting grounds. Katniss' bow whips up and for a split second I think the turkeys have finally made an appearance. It registers that there's no game though, she's only practicing her shot. The bow is the larger of two her father made for her; a small one to learn on, a big one to stay alive on. I joke it's as tall as her, but lately I've seen how skilled she is.

"If you could shoot any food with an arrow, what would you shoot?" Katniss isn't much for hypotheticals.

"I don't know, a deer," her answers are logical. "We would have as much meat as we wanted and could sell the rest." We? We've only seen deer once together, and Katniss' small bow shot an arrow far too short to matter. She's right, though, a deer could change everything.

"I'd shoot beef stew."

"That doesn't make any sense," Katniss grumbles. This make sense: talking without intention, without making plans or negotiation on the haul, without the deafening cries of starving siblings back at home.

"Sure it does. If I could have any meal, it would be beef stew with cocoa flakes and meat that melts in your mouth." It's my stomach that grumbles next.

"That's not what you asked."

"It's what I meant though." Maybe it's too much effort to be friends. "Vick's would be sweet potatoes covered in cinnamon. We've had it only once, but he's convinced it's his favorite."

"Favorite," Katniss echoes. It's not a word we often use, not much favor in District 12. "I don't have favorites." I lean back against the tree trunk and try to hide my annoyance. If Katniss didn't want to be friends, we didn't have to be stuck up these trees together. The wind continues to nestle the leaves, bringing a tune that cuts through the quietness.

"How do make a tissue dance?" I'm watching two squirrels chase each other on the branches above me that she catches me off-balance. I brace myself with my hand and indicate I don't know. I could guess, but this is more entertaining.

"Put a little boogie in it." I stifle the chuckle in my throat. Funny but her delivery is terrible. Stale and monotone with no expression. And then Katniss looks so serious, I can't stop the laughter from erupting out of my mouth.

"Not bad Catnip. Your delivery needs help though." If we're anything, it's honest.

"Gale, look!" I stare to her as she aims her arrow down towards me. She's five feet higher and I'm dead in her crosshairs, but instinctively I follow the direction of her voice to what she's pointing at. One fat wild turkey trotting out from the brush.  _Woosh_. It's shot dead before I can even process.

"Woo!" I holler before jumping down the tree. I slow my steps when I near the turkey, waiting for Katniss to claim her prize.

"Are you okay?" she asks, kneeling to inspect the gobbler. Long bronze wings that mean it's a male.

"Oh, yeah, the shot was an arm’s reach from my head." Somewhere along the paths and trails, came a trust for Katniss and her aim.

"I just saw it and released."

"As soon as you lifted your bow, I thought I said something wrong about your joke!" I'm kidding with her. She stops ruffling the turkey's feathers and flares her nose. "I looked so fast I barely saw you pointing. Straight. At. Me." She sucks in her cheeks. I don't know why she doesn't just do it. Laugh, get it out, off her chest. Like if we can't have anything, not even fathers, then we can't laugh. I don't know. My mother and I make sure Posy is fed well enough to be a happy baby and everything she does is cute and new; and I know even Posy could make Katniss laugh.

"I knew you wouldn't hit me," I admit. Maybe honesty can be our thing. Honesty. Trust. Friendship. Aren't they the same?

"Well I'm glad you knew."

"If you thought you'd hit me, you wouldn't have shot," I consider aloud.

"Maybe." We've given the wild turkey a once over and the size of it is satisfying. Thirty pounds I gage. Enough for a feast tonight and profit from the leftovers.

We jog to our spot near the meadow and return the weapons into the hollowed-out trees. We decide to drop the turkey off at my house, so my mother and siblings can prep the meat. We'll divide it later

It hasn't been until recently that we go to the Hob together. It only makes sense that we would, but like most things Katniss is apprehensive. We walk alone however and only trade together when it's something we can't spilt, like when The Head Peacekeeper Cray wants a full turkey. I get two eggs for a rabbit and make my way to the back of the Hob to visit Ripper. I need a cup of white liquor. The recipe calls for two teaspoons of vanilla, but I can't trade for that. I must convince Ripper the alcohol is for a recipe before she takes a rabbit for a cup. Which it is. For a recipe. I've tried it before anyway and I don't quite have a tongue for it yet.

"You went to the Ripper?" Katniss asks as we leave the Hob. Neither of us buy from her often, although we learn she has a need for herbs.

"I sold some of my greens to her." I lie kicking the dirt beneath us as we walk. "We ran out of salt." I feel bad for lying. I'm trying to win her trust with this meal, not lose it.

"Oh, okay," she's unsuspecting, "I don't like going to her alone."

"Me either." Katniss is a foot shorter than me and when I smile at her I glance down. Sometimes I see an angle of her that makes my eyes swell. She's older than Rory by two years but barely through her first Reaping, the Games ending a couple of months ago. She's too young to carry the burden of survival. We reach my house first and keep goodbyes short.

"See you at the square, remember five pm for dinner." I shout to her. She turns on her heels and a poof of dust surrounds her boots.

"I know, Gale. You've only told me every day for the last week."  _I know, Gale._  I don't think she has ever said more words to me than she has today. I pop my thumb up and rush inside, I know I can't hide the happiness from my face.

 


	2. Surprised

The sharp ache in my stomach echoes within hollow walls. One pain familiar from a life of malnutrition, the other a consolation prize for a dead father. Shooting stings course through my body but mostly in my belly. Ma says it's from anxiety. I set a fifth plate down, while Vick follows behind with a spoon. And six. Only two extra seats, Katniss and Prim, but we barely fit when my father was alive. There’re just enough chairs when we pull the one from the bedroom and bring in the stool from outside. My mother is at the stove top stirring the pot and must sense my temptations to ask.

"It's stewing just fine, honey." She doesn't turn but she's grinning ear to ear. "Help the boys wash up, they won't want to sit still once company arrives."

"Vick, let's wash your paws." He giggles with delight when I slip my hands under his armpits and place him on the step under the wash basin. His hands are soft against mine, running the water black as we scrub together.

"I'm gonna tell Katniss I mixed the cake!" Vick is my youngest brother, almost six and all sweetness. Eager to please and always looking to cuddle.

"Okay, that's fine. But only after we bring it out. Remember, it's a surprise." It's not every day you get cake in the Seam, not every day or week or even month.

"No, it's not," Rory says from behind us. "We already know the surprise." Rory will fight Vick over everything like what game to play or who goes first. I'm gone so much, I think that's why he's become so bossy. He's the big brother, taller than Vick and ready for mischief.

"It's a surprise for Katniss and Prim. And you promised you'd try and keep it." I would be embarrassed if this weren't my family listening to me beg.

"Why is it a surprise anyway?" asks Rory.

"It's fun." I wave him over. "And she won't drive herself crazy thinking about it. Like you."

"I'd want to know without a surprise."

"Me too!" Vick is very agreeable.

"Because then she coulda been so happy all the way up until she eats it and probably even happier when she eats." My heart aches now. Rory and Vick eat better than most and yet fullness is a distant feeling.

"Rory come on." I insist motioning at the sink.

"I still woulda told her," he slurs. When he doesn't budge, ma turns around and orders him over.

"Rory, hands!" He gets on the step and I scrub his hands too.

It's 5:03. Katniss will be here. I just cannot wait here to come. Not before long is there a soft knock on the door, quickly followed by a slightly louder one. The boys are on my heels, fighting over who gets to say hi to Katniss first. I hear my mother lightly scold them from behind me.

"Katniss!" I'm tugging on my ear with one hand and my other is open for a hug. We don't hug. But now the implication is there.

"Hi, Gale," she smiles warmly and takes a step forward, matching my one extended arm into a side hug. Good start.

"Come in please." It's too cold to take our shoes off but bearable without coats. I take their coats and offer a hello to Prim.

"Thank you," she says handing me a jacket two sizes too big. I hang them and get on with introductions.

"Katniss, Prim, this is my family. My mother, Hazelle." I say squeezing ma's hand.

"We've been hearing a lot about you girls, I'm thrilled to finally meet you." My mother steps forward to hug Katniss, who surprises me by hugging her back. "And Primrose, such a beautiful name for such a special little sister." She hugs Prim who radiates with warmth and kindness.

"Rory," I point, "and Vick. Posy's down for a nap, but you'll meet her before the night ends."

There's an exchange of greeting and names that's almost too effortless to believe.

"He doesn't look that old," Prim whispers to Katniss, who bites her bottom lip nervously. Rory hisses.

"He only looks old because he has wrinkles all around his eyeballs," he says.

"And I only have wrinkles because of you!" It's light hearted and Katniss relaxes. Before the boys drag Prim to the floor to play, my mother summons us to the kitchen. To keep the food warm and because the table is far too small, the food stays on the burners.

"This was their father's favorite meal, beef stew, with dried plums. Thanks to you, it's turkey meat tonight." My dad's favorite meal is beef stew, the dried plums are for Katniss.

"You're welcome," she says with a hint of pride. "We brought jam and bread. I'm sorry I'm not much of a cook."

"No, this is great, Katniss." I say collecting the items. Jam and bread. Beef stew with dried plums. And cake. We'll be full for the first time in months. My mother serves, and I help Vick with his plate before finding our way to the table.

Posy begins to cry from the bedroom and startles Katniss. My mother assures everyone Posy is only hungry and withdrawals to the bedroom. Conversation is easy. Rory dictates most of it, loud and unnecessary, I give him a hard time in return and Prim chats like she has known us forever. Katniss speaks when she has something to say and I serve second servings. The rhythm of dinner moves through the kitchen until Rory says for the tenth time how he's the best at this and that.

"Here ma. I'll take her." Thankfully my mother returns before I lose my patience. She's missed most of the meal nursing Posy, who sits on her hip. Without much fuss, ma hands the baby to me and goes to make a plate. Posy coos in my arms.

"Mrs. Hawthorne, let me!" Katniss is fast and she's by the stove ready to take the dish from my mother's hands. There's not much to serve up but the gesture is very kind.

"Thank you, Katniss." Not even a week after giving birth to Posy, ma was out looking for work. One morning I woke up and next to my bed was five-day old Posy, tucked safely in a milk crate that served as her cradle. Vick curled around my waist and Rory laid at my back. I brought her into bed with us. She barely weighed more than a rabbit. I would have been scared picking her up if it weren't for the steady hand needed for building snares. That and all the practice from two little boys squirming across from me.

"Soon Rory," I promise, "right after mom eats." Typical meals don't last longer than fifteen minutes, but this one extends thirty with so much turkey we go back for third helpings. Even with a belly full, Rory's mind is on dessert.

"That was the juiciest turkey I've ever had, Mrs. Hawthorne," her voice is small but confident. Prim looks out of the place among the rest of us. With her pale skin and blonde hair, blue eyes that near seem to dim.

"Thank you, Prim, fresh game makes it easy, I'm so happy if you liked it. The plums added lots of flavor," says Ma.

"It was very good." Prim carries conversation effortlessly with my brothers and will talk to ma just the same. She's must better at it than Katniss. Posy playing on my lap, I understand Katniss a little more in this moment. In three years, Rory will have to enter The Hunger Games pool. I have three years to prepare well enough, so we won't need the measly servings from tesserae. So my siblings will never need to write their name on more slips.

I've seen Prim at school, but meeting Prim for the first time, I now see she's the best of Katniss and so much more. Things Katniss can never be again. The innocence we once shared with our siblings is fleeting the further we travel into the woods, the deeper into illegal crimes punishable by death.

"I liked the jam," Rory says scooting closer to Prim on the pew they share.

"It was so sweet," adds Vick. He slides a finger across his plate to scoop up a near forgotten drip of the blueberry preserve. I should correct him because Katniss and Prim are here, but we use our hands more than we do forks.

"And thick." Rory says licking his lips.

"I think I might actually be stuffed." Katniss hasn't spoken much, but we all agree with this. Ma looks at me like I best get on with the surprise.

"Well I hope not stuffed enough for dessert."

"Dessert?" Prim says, clasping her hands together.

"A full piece of white cake for everyone!" The murmurs are more cheerful than the house has hard in months. Even Posy, who will get a bite or two, is bouncing on my legs. Katniss raises her eyebrows and out slips a sincere smile. My chest drops and something within me eases. We have no obligation to become friends, but Katniss didn't have to come either.

"I have room for cake." She's looking me in the eyes, sucking her cheeks in just like before. I get it. Smiling isn't the same when it's not in the woods. And the Capitol doesn't deserve our happiness.

"I can serve this time," I suggest.

"Gale, sit. Posy needs time with you." Everyone helps with Posy at some point during the day. We do our best to make sure she's comfortable with any of us so that our mother gets seclusion. She doesn't ask for much, but I hope we give her more than most.

"I'll help you mama!" says Vick, when ma gets up from the table.

"I can get it!" Rory is quick to add.

"Let me cut it first little ones. Then you may walk your plate up for a piece." My mother's always good at festering my brother's competitiveness.

"This is what you saw the Ripper about." Katniss puts today's visit together.

"Yeah, sorry I lied, I wanted it to be a surprise." For a moment I think my brothers are right and she'd rather have known, her face burns rosy and I'm scared she might cry.

"Thank you, Gale," she's barely audible through the noise of seven people. "It's the best surprise!" It's hushed but full of true excitement. I take a mental note that she doesn't mind surprises if they include food.

"You're welcome Katniss." Maybe we will be friends. Ma calls the kids up starting with Prim.

"There's no frosting." I wish I could have the money for that.

"Doesn't matter," her eyes glaze over when Prim sits down with her little square of cake, "it looks beautifully baked."

"Courtesy of the boys," my mother adds. Vick is sitting with his piece next. "Gale wanted so badly to have this tonight, but he had to do it himself. The stew is a big chore." She winks at me and now my cheeks flush with color. My ears too.

"Just seven ingredients." Not very difficult. That's if you had the money to afford it all from town.

"But still…" Katniss trails. We may not know each other all that well yet, but months alone supporting a family from the Seam teaches you a lot. And so, words aren't needed. Katniss understands how hard it's been to collect these items. Rory carefully sets Katniss' plate down in front her, having snuck it away with his.

"I could have-" I watch her lips as the cake interrupts her thought. A subtle lick instead of the usual gnawing. She pokes it with her fingers.

"It feels so moist!" Katniss says.

"Just wait till you eat it," I tell her.

"It's delicious Katniss!" Prim says, carefully cutting another bite.

"It's so tall, how'd did bake it so tall?"

"I just followed the recipe." My mother returns to the table with our share.

"Thanks mama." Katniss eventually picks up her spoon, reused from the stew, and cuts a bite. Her fingers eloquently but firmly grip the handle. We have our manners, but Katniss has precision to eat that is only equal to that of her archery skills. I can tell she's impressed with the fluffiness. I'm not sure she notices but she closes her eyes as she eats a spoonful. She definitely doesn't notice herself hum with satisfaction.

"Gale that was the best cake I've ever had." She says after chewing slowly. I wonder if she's ever had cake before.

"Thank you, Katniss." I put a small chunk on my spoon to give to Posy. Mama says Posy's healthy, but I sneak food to her plate most nights anyway.

"Gale, only a bit," ma says, watching me. She means because of the sugar this time.

"She's gotta try cake!" I mean because I won't stop filling her plate ever. Katniss eats in silence, savoring each bite. I eat my piece and share a few more tastes with Posy. Before long, my mother instructs our siblings to clear the table and suggest Katniss and I take Posy to the carpet to play.

"Thank you for dinner but I thought we'd always split things." She's been waiting to say this.

"You're welcome. The house hasn't felt this decent in a long time." I fidget with my ear. I don't know how to tell her I did it because I wanted to not because I had to or that she's indebted to me.

"I haven't wanted happiness in a long time," I say quietly. "Rory and Vick were so excited to help bake the cake and then eat it of course, it's like they forgot how sad they are. Or maybe they're aren't sad anymore." I bury my face in Posy's belly, kissing her bare skin so that it tickles. The boys are so young, and my mother carries half the load. Working and nursing a baby with barely enough to eat herself.

"I could at least give you something to trade for."

"Maybe, but surprises don't count." In the stillness of the woods, I have learned the subtleties of Katniss' emotion, so often unsaid. She wants to dispute but she liked the surprise.

"Maybe," Katniss says, offering me a second smile. "The plums were deliciously honeyed."

"Thank you for sharing your spot with me." Our breath falls into pace. She's never told me, but we both know dried plums are her favorite. Or perhaps she didn't know herself and yet the realization is there now.

After a few beats she asks, "What did you have to trade for the baking powder?"

"Just a squirrel. The Baker measured it out." She calculates this in her head.

"What did you trade for the sugar?"

"Two coins." She sighs but continues.

"And the butter?"

"I got it from the Goat Man, I don't know, he wanted some grain for his goats and needed a fence repaired." Not my best trade but his goats produce good dairy. I finish up my trades, knowing she'll only keep asking. "I got milk from that too. Two eggs for a rabbit, the liquor was in place of vanilla and I traded it for a rabbit. We had the flour saved up."

"The Mayor likes strawberry," she shares casually. "He'd probably sell you a cup of just about anything for them." She's teasing, but after all these months she's never joked.

A gust of wind rips open the shutters above the stove and its clear Katniss and Prim should retreat home ahead of an incoming storm. My mother takes Posy and there's a chatter of farewell among our two families.

"Posy really loves you." Katniss tells me, pulling on an oversized hunting jacket.

"I really love Posy." How could I not?

"Like I love Prim," she notes.

"Well yeah," wasn't that obvious? "Exactly like that." It's obvious she's thinking about something important now.

"Thanks again, Gale, really," she says, nearly out of the door with Prim at her heels.

"Thank you, Gale! The cake was divine!" Prim hugs my waist as she follows Katniss.

I'm leaning up in bed, my brothers' sound asleep above me. It's late and at some point in the night my mother left to the kitchen with Posy. I can't sleep. Katniss' family may be desolate, but ma and I can't afford secrets. She's a curious mother and already worried about my time beyond the fence.

"Here, sweet boy," ma says, bending down. "If you're up anyways." I smile and nod receiving my baby sister. There's an ache in my heart I wasn't expecting after today's events.

"I miss daddy…" the words slip my mouth before I can reel them back in. I'm fourteen, nearly six feet tall, and will barter with anyone who has what I need. But my father was wiser and taller and gained respect before he even said a word. And I'm not sure I could ever fall in love like my parents did, but if I know love it's because of him. Most days are full of too much anger to miss him like I should.

"Me too." Her lips are warm against my forehead. "He would be so proud of you today. We love you."

I think he would be too. I take Posy's hands in mine and we dance in the dark. With so many mouths to feed, we won't do this again soon. It doesn't matter. I've seen Prim from afar at school, but now that I've seen her up close, I have a face for the name that Katniss holds dearest. Even in the faint glow of one single candle, I know that Posy is the face of the name I hold dearest.

Vick babbles in his sleep. Maybe him too, I think. And Rory. And my mother. My father must have wanted us so badly to risk all our lives by going to the woods. He had no choice. Either have no family and starve to death in the safety of 12 or have a family and feed them in the secrecy of the trees.

"Po-sy. Po-sy." She always smiles at me. "Lay down with me Po." I lay on back and tilt Posy so she's flat on my chest. I'm reminded of Katniss and her will to survive, not just for herself, but for her mom and her sister. I share her pain, forged together by an explosion, and I'm not sure I'll ever be rid of mine. I wonder if she'll ever get rid of hers.

We talk hunting mostly. Prime locations, hidden fruits, and weapons we begin to share. That which is left unsaid, unfolds in the hours we walk instep together, watching each other's back into uncharted territory. Every new detail I learn about Katniss fills the bridge between strangers and something more. A bridge that suggests my family will survive. Her companionship enfolding the hateful rants I can't say within the fence. Our time in the woods is precious and I start to embrace each moment that we do have. And Katniss is part of that, even if she doesn't laugh at my jokes.

 


	3. Tip-Toe Shuffle

I twist the bow in my hands, willing my body to stay alert. My shoulders pull tight towards my chest. The sun has just awoken, its full brim now active above the horizon. I want to stand and shake out my legs, but the temperature sits so perfectly that I can barely feel it at all.

"Hey Catnip." I do feel her presence though.

"How did you hear me?" I turn around to see her. Confident in her quiet step, she's pouting.

"Not so much you, as the woods themselves." If I knew what I was listening for, I'm sure the woods could tell us everything. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she grumbles sitting next to me.

"But how'd you know it was me?"

"Who else would it be?" I laugh. When my father died, I thought I'd be alone out here forever. Katniss cracks a smile.

"True, but I never hear you," she says, taking the berries from my open palm. Her fingers no longer look like the twigs that break beneath our feet.

"My dad caught me following him out here one morning. Said he could hear me the moment I slid under the fence after him. He let me catch up to him far enough into the woods for a decent tongue-lashing." The rock we sit on overlooks a valley, it's become our meeting place even though it's only just big enough for us both. I feel her legs tense against mine, we'll be sitting on top of each other before long.

"We agreed that once I could approach my father from behind without him knowing, I could learn to hunt."

"How long did it take?" Katniss relaxes. She's more protective than me and talking fathers is never easy, not even two summers later.

"Three months maybe."

"Well, where'd you learn? Could you go into the woods at all?" I start laughing and she's not amused.

"Every Saturday I'd tip-toe behind my dad, if he called me out, I had to retreat home. On Sundays he started taking me with him. I stalked alley cats and walked five steps behind everyone." Katniss makes a noise.

"You can laugh, I'm sure ma would tell you how silly I looked." Katniss is only a shell of herself inside the fence; beyond the fence, I think she could be whole.

"I'd like to see you chase after Buttercup," she smirks.

"We can practice today, what do you want to do?"

"I need to gather. I have a list of herbs to look for from my mother."

I suggest the sandstone area, there are streams on the way and patches of flowers and greens everywhere. A place I found alone, just past my father's favorite trapping grounds. After he died, I ran and when I stopped the sand was at my feet. A place that is now as much Katniss' as it is mine, a worthy trade for the bow I carry.

"We can practice our footsteps in the sand and check the snare line on our way out."

"How's that going to help? Sand is quiet."

"Trust me, it'll tell us a lot."

"I don't know how it's going to help but okay. As long as we gather." This is progress. At first, we argued everything, then we realized how much we both had to offer, and now when I say trust me, I almost believe her when she says okay.

Katniss and I stow our bows and begin the more than two-hour journey. The hike is strenuous and hilly, increasing with difficulty, so we jog familiar territory before easing into a steady tempo. Summer is nearing an end and autumn brings school. We take advantage of the longer days, so often unable to travel far in the winter. Today there's no dew in the air but the heat warms my skin like a welcomed massage.

Months after my father's death, I almost started to hate the woods. It was summer then too and I spent countless days scavenging alone, until I couldn't see straight. Isolation mixed with the cruel reminder of chance, and the consequences both within and beyond the fence chipped away at the only thing I had left of my father; hope. Could we have survived without his wages from the mines? Then I met Katniss, the void replaced with vastness between trees, the blooming of wild flowers, and trails that led to stability.

By the time the sand shapes the edges of the trail, we've collected yarrow and rosebud for balms and an assortment of berries to serve as lunch. Sand overflows the pathway until we hit the wall itself. The reddish rock stands taller than any building I've ever seen, which wasn't hard being that District 12 is the only place I've ever been. The Justice Building, only a tenth of what towers about us, a few hundred feet and longer in either direction. I think the Capitol put it here, but Katniss reminds me there are other directions that don't lead to walls.

"Come feel the rock." My cheek presses against the shaded stone. Catching her breath, Katniss cannot argue and instead leans into the wall.

"Cool." The muscles in her face untwist and her smile matches mine. Her features all match mine, thick eyebrows that say too much, gray eyes, and plump lips. I lift my shirt exposing my bare skin to the rock and she laughs, turning away on her other cheek. I wonder if she's happy. I think I could be truly happy in the woods.

"Which way Catnip?" The elderberries erupt in my mouth, the sweet flavor mixing with a heart-shaped leaf that litters the trail. Wood sorrels are sour, easy to find, and plentiful in the woods. Edible as is and delicious in tea.

"Right," she points, "the dry creek bed has the most sand." I nod, following behind as she leads.

It's a rewarding cove covered by trees and shaded by a short roof that extends out from the top of the wall. Too rewarding to keep my boots on any longer.

"What are you doing? We're taking a break, not a nap." There's an urgency that directs Katniss' step.

"No break then. Take your boots off, we learn without them." She levels the emotion on her face and sits near my side.

"I like my feet very much," she says, untying her boots.

"And I like mine, they'll be fine." I dig my toes under the sand and find more relief from the increasing heat. "We're starting in the sand anyways." I walk a short length, engaging each muscle in my soles as I walk. When I turn around to Katniss, she looks doubtful.

"Ew, Gale, get your foot out of my face!" That gets her up and moving.

"Don't be rude, I have nice feet Katniss."

"Not if they're in my face."

"Come on, all we do first is walk the creek bed end to end." Banter is a mostly enjoyable byproduct of a relationship formed in the woods. When we're far enough away that the only whistles we hear are from the birds and not the mining shaft, and we're free to speak as we please.

"How is that going to help, Gale?"

"Let me explain first!" I snap back. "Okay, feel the ground with your whole foot as you walk. Try and noticed everything about your step, is it quick and short or slow and long? Do you land on your toes or middle? Find the balance between each stride." There's a balance between Katniss and I, a partnership developed somewhere between the soils we dig in and the waters that wash us clean.

"Now close your eyes."

"Then I can't see."

"But you can feel. Boots are thick, it's easy to lose touch and sight of the ground. Let your weight settle, shift forward, slow and steady will lead your way." I close my eyes, she must know we're in this together. Katniss must close hers too because her hand finds mine in the stillness.

"Don't let go." It's barely a whisper.

"Never." I promise. Our hands clasp together fused by loss, yet united by the living. Each step building her confidence until she's walking blind by herself. We move to running, watching how our step disrupts the sand and it in what motion it spits. After a short time, Katniss masters this as well.

"Why am I teaching you again instead of hunting?" I tease.

"Gale, this is imp-"

"I'm kidding, you're a quick learner is all. Let's move to the trail."

"Thanks, Gale."

"No shoes!" I hop out of the sand bed, over to the trail. The temperature will drop soon, followed by the leaves, but now the trees are mostly full of fall foliage. Some still green, other's beginning to turn, and a few with every color hanging from its branches. What leaves have fallen will give a softer step.

"Now, we do everything we practiced in the sand, out here between the trees. Sometimes to heighten other senses we need to put one into overdrive. Just like with your bow, connect with the earth with each step. The deeper that connection, the more your focus can be elsewhere."

"Gale, your foot!" A small twig is sticking out, I pull it off as Katniss arrives squatting down. "Are you okay?" She can't hide the anguish in her face, blood and sickness are not her strong suits.

"I'm fine, Katniss. It was just the skin. I didn't even feel it."

"Let me take a look, Gale, you could have a puncture." It's not bleeding and there's no pain, but I sit down anyway.

"I thought you didn't like my feet." I wiggle my toes when she holds my limb in her hands.

"I didn't say that." Katniss' mother is a healer. She's earnestly examining my foot with hands she promises are too clumsy to heal. Prim, her little sister, receives the gift of healing. Yet her grip is tender, a skill needed for both bowstring and snare wire. Katniss can do anything because she's determined. Determined to survive, determined for Prim to make it through to the age 18 with as little slips as required. Relative safety really.

Do people in the Capitol have moments like this? Moments that hide away their troubles or if they have troubles to forget at all. Since my father died, there has been no refuge, not even the woods. Winter nearly broke me. I wish I was brave enough, but it took me weeks to find a steady hand. In the bitterness of winter, I was the prey. Hunting was simply harder alone. I realize the lack of words and turn my gaze from my foot cradled in Katniss' lap to her face. Katniss became my refuge. And now my healer.

"So, you like my feet?" She playfully tosses my leg to the side. "I could have pulled the stick out but that would mean stopping. Adapt to the terrain, don't let it control you."

Katniss does well barefooted but it's harder with boots too big. It's a hindrance even though she'll grow into them.

"You'll pick it up Katniss. Don't worry."

"If you say so, Gale."

"If you're quiet in those boots, think of how incredible you'll be when they fit!"

"You're right," Katniss admits. "Think we should go back?" It's hard to gauge the sun's position from beneath the landscape.

"Probably so, we still need to check the snares." Neither of us want to leave, there's so much to do in these special places away from our rock.

"All right. I'll be back, bathroom break." She drops in the sand and walks the length of the creek in her boots before wandering out to find a private spot. More than a few minutes go by and she hasn't return. After about fifteen minutes I start calling her name, traveling in the direction she went. When I spot her through the trees, she's running towards me.

"Gale!" Our eyes meet and now she's running away from me. "Follow me! This way!"

I pick up my pace, letting her direct my step. Katniss is fast, the space between us allows her to make a hard right past a grassy boulder. I follow at the same speed and immediately slow when I run into a dense wall of purple. It's a field of wild lavender, bushels saturated with color. The flower buds gently prick my ribs, having discarded my shirt earlier.

"Gale! It's lavender!" I know what lavender is, how did I miss the smell? It's as rich as its color. "Did you know?"

"I didn't, you've found a surprise for both of us!" The petals are smooth like the velvet I've only touched at the shop in the town. Without words, we play like our siblings would, running with outstretched hands, twirling in the shrubbery. We've learned not to force things even when situations are dire. We seamlessly drift from moments that are ours alone to those we share together without intent.

Lavender has many qualities, it can be used as flavoring in cooking and tea. My mother can use it in her laundry soap, providing a fresh smell for her merchant customers. The flower is known for soothing the mind and body when crushed and used on the skin. We can put it in baths even. We gather as much as our slings can carry. I even use my shirt to pack a little extra before we must go.

It takes an hour to reach the out most point of the snare line. We work silently through each set up, moving proficiently as the days nears an end. Katniss retrieves as I reset the traps. By the time we've walk the line back to our meeting place, we've come away with more meat than we can carry. To make it easier, I tie the animals together by their hind legs. We each take an equal portion before traveling back to the fence surrounding District 12.

Katniss' house can be seen from the meadow. The fence slices the field in half and looking in on the Seam from this position is cruel, yet beautiful sight that leads to misery.

"You really didn't know?" Katniss asks.

"No. Do you think I would keep that a secret?"

"Thanks for sharing it with me," she smiles, and I'm reminded how sacred a Katniss Everdeen smile is. "We should go back soon. Lavender is a wonderful healing agent."

"Okay, yes. Let's plan to."

"And you promise I'll learn to be as quiet as you?"

"Trust me, you will." Her eyes narrow as if trust isn't good enough. "I promise."

"Okay. When should we meet tomorrow?"

"Best make it a later start. My mother may have errands." We settle on a time when the woods begin to howl, winds preparing to chase us home. Still neither of us move. Reality taints even the best days with what awaits us on the other side of the meadow.

"See you tomorrow, Catnip," If it's not goodbye, it's easier to separate.

"Thanks Gale." She slips easily through a dug-out hole and I help push her haul to the other side. With one last smile she dashes to her backdoor.

 


	4. Lavender Shuffle

This late in summer my mother doesn't expect me home at a certain hour, but I still feel a twinge of guilt when I reach my porch. The sun is beginning its descent, so I grab a small bouquet in my hand, and silently hope the flowers will smooth things over for missing dinner.

"Hi guys." I swing the door shut with my foot and juggle items to the table before the fall.

"Gale!" says Vick. He's standing on a chair, pulled closed to the sink. "We're washing."

"You missed dinner," Rory says, rinsing plates while Vick dries.

"Mama?" I call out.

"She's not here," Rory sings.

"Where is she? Did she take the baby?" The boys are nine and seven years old, old enough to stay alone as Seam children, but we try to avoid it. They shouldn't have to raise themselves.

"The silver lady came here," Rory says, splashing Vick.

"Rory, focus, what did Mrs. Silverstein want?" The front room is open to a kitchen on one side with dining space and the other side a TV room. All homes in the District are given modest living areas for optimal viewings of The Hunger Games and other government announcements.

"I don't know. Mom went with her to wash a cloth."

"Okay, and she took Posy?" The boys are playing gently over the sink paying me no attention.

"Rory!" I don't yell but it's enough for a response.

"Yeah, mama has Po-Po." Rory detests chores, but he can make just about anything fun. By now Vick has turned around and his eyes grow big.

"You hunted all that?" He hops down to get a closer look.

"And these." I open a cloth bag that's overflowing with lavender and it falls across the table. Between incoherent sentences, Vick grabs a handful and inhales the sweet aroma.

"Smells like mama." We don't find lavender often and certainly never in such abundance, but my mother mixes some herbs into laundry soap. In the Seam, coal never truly settles, but ma's elbow deep in suds most days and smells like the meadow after a summer shower.

"They're so soft! And purple. I've never seen anything so purple before." Vick appreciates beautiful things. My father only owned a few items of worth, including a watch given to him by his father. The value of which was actually very little, but craftsmanship is important and Vick notices too. He'll walk by the bakery window like the painted cakes are works of art. They might be. The baker's son, Peeta, makes them and they always sell out. And flowers, Vick loves flowers.

"Think we can do something for mama with these?" I ask, taking off and returning my supplies to their rightful place.

"Like what?" Rory grabs a rabbit in his hands. "This one is huge!"

"A hot bath with lavender and tea with some too."

"Do we get to take a bath after?"

"No, you got a bath last night." Baths are a lot of effort for mediocre reward, I'd rather bathe in a stream.

"That's a lot of work," Rory says.

"It is, but ma doesn't usually make Sunday night house calls." Vick agrees. "Plus, we have so much, we can put a hot cup in the bath before everyone's turn tomorrow. I promise."

"Deal."

"If we dry these blossoms, we can try it over the berries I found today." The boys beg to do that now and I don't blame them, my stomach sits dull and empty. I welcome the enthusiasm and let them pick a task. Rory will help me fill the tub while Vick clears the table of tomorrow's trades. I tend the fire, seeping flowers in the boiling water. A familiar tune hums through the open windows, bringing me out the front door.

"Hey mama."

"Hi honey." I offer to take something from her hands and I receive Posy while she fixes a satchel with her cleaning supplies. "Posy awfully fussy, but she's just ready for bed."

My mother doesn't say this to throw it in my face, but I still want to rush her inside for a gentle bath and tea that will help her sleep.

"I'll put her to bed tonight. Come on, Katniss and I had a productive day."

The scent is overwhelming as we enter our small house. There's a light breeze that sweeps it up and swirls it around the room. Ma can mask a grieving heart under a pleasing demeanor, but the joy in her face is authentic as the flowers that decorate the room.

As if standard protocol, my mother takes a moment to breathe in the scent. Vick is hugging her legs and I'm so grateful she is a mother who accepts him with open arms.

"You weren't that glad to see me," I joke. When he's welcomed my mother plenty, Vick gives me a hug as well. And then promptly insists that I carry him too. Which I do. Because maybe next year he won't want me to and maybe the next year he'll get too big, and then eventually The Hunger Games.

"We made you a bath and tea, mama," Rory says, snapping my focus back to the present. He leads her by the hand to the tub. "Gale found a whole field full!"

"Well, Katniss found it. We went past daddy's favorite place." This send my baby brother deeper under my neck.

"I knew it. A little trust and the perfect day would come by so Katniss and you could explore," my mother says. "And you, just a little faith, huh?" Her wisdom always comes at no cost, rather like a gift.

"Yes ma'am."

"Get in, get in!" Rory says, playing with a petal that floats.

"Better get in before it cools off. Rory, come get ready for bed. Once ma is in the tub, you can check if she needs anything." My mother tugs Rory into her side, helping me in the matter.

"Go on Rory, you can bring me that tea you mentioned." Rory trusts me; when a wild dog cornered us once in an alley, I told him to duck right and he did so without a word. But he doesn't like to listen when I make sure he completes his chores or brushes his hair.

"Okay, mom," he makes a point to look at me and I start for the bedroom. "I boiled the most water!" I hear from behind.

"Vick, change into your sleepers and you and me can lay down with Posy." I set him down on his bed.

"And mint?" Yes. A piece of mint to suck on helps with teeth and hunger. I lay Posy on my mother's bed. She doesn't need changing but I apply a small amount of balm to her skin. She's been battling a sun rash and doesn't accept the gentle massage with the usual glee.

"Sorry, Pose," I put her the bed, "close your eyes. Vick will lay with you soon." She's crying but I continue with the nightly rituals.

"Rory, can you fix a bottle for Posy too?" I ask, dropping my hunting pants to the ground and grabbing a towel to wash off what I can. He'll do so happily if it means he can stay up longer.

I prop up a fan that runs on magnetized metal in a window. Since we don't get electricity most days, I light candles on either side of the room as the moon begins to rise. I pull on a pair of thin shorts to sleep in and wash the last bit of smut off my face. Before Vick soils my sheets, I scrub his face and arms clean as well. Posy's still whimpering when Rory delivers her bottle.

"Gale, mint please."

"Alright, lay down," I push Vick backwards, to which he tells me to do it again. I go to a small container and pull out three pieces of mint, handing one each to Posy and Vick, saving the other for myself.

"Mama said to eat this," Rory says, giving me a flour wrap. Ma uses our rations to make thin dough sheets and somehow, it's more appetizing than a loaf of dense bread. Fresh greens, strawberries, onions, and bits of turkey from last weekend's haul. Not much, but flavorful.

"Thanks." When's the last time I ate? I'm grateful for the meal, considering I missed dinner. I perch myself on a window sill to eat and keep an eye over Rory as he does his bedtime routine. I'm so tired, that once he's ready, I'll go to bed with the kids. A warm bath is a rarity my mother deserves and privacy even more so.

We'll discuss my late arrival when we both wake early. The woods are unpredictable, and it would take longer than a few hours for my mother to worry. Still, I try to adhere to a predetermined time frame I share with her before leaving.

"Ready?" Rory nods, retrieving a piece of mint for himself. "Want to sleep with us?"

"Nope, you can have Vick. It's just my bed tonight." I make a bet in my head with dad, Rory joins us at some point in the night. He'll get lonely by himself, we all do.

"Fine, goodnight Rory."

"Night Bubba," he says between yawns. Bubba. As far back as I can remember, my father would call me by that name. Then Rory came around and he was Bubba too. I remember crying in my daddy's arm because how could someone else have my name? But he told me how much he loved the new baby and how he couldn't wait to teach and watch him grow. My father could turn my world upside down and have me looking at things sideways. Rory would be my Bubba like I was my dad's. Only the name ever really stuck with me.

I side step over Vick, who's nearly asleep on the bed and lay down beside him. Posy is content with a bottle but sits upright on my other side. Katniss and I have spent nearly every day together since we first met last October. Each one vital to our survival. It wasn't until spring that the sandstone could be accessed, yet it still took a month of suggesting it was a worthy destination. After we went, Katniss showed me a honeycomb near a shallow cave; I had never seen one before. Somewhere along the trails, the trust I had in her became the trust she had in me. And tonight, when I say trust me, this time I believe her when she says okay.

 


End file.
